Anywhere but Under the Sea

“Okay everyone,” Senor Berg called the class back to order. “Our beloved student council is looking for volunteers. Apparently they are quite desperate for people to help with decorating floats and other materials for the homecoming at the end of the month. As silly as a thing this may be I’m willing to offer extra credit to any student who helps. As you all know homecoming is one of the activities I am partially in charge of, so I will be here at 8 am for the next four Saturdays. Any student who joins me will earn 10 extra credit points per weekend. Anyone who volunteers for all four times will get an additional 35 points. I shouldn’t have to point out that 75 points might be the difference between some of you getting midterms sent home or not. Think carefully and let me know at the end of the period if I should expect you tomorrow or not. Great. Moving on. Abran sus libros a la pagina 254 y practicar la conversacion.”

The students did as they were told and in short order were taking turns repeating the phrases.

Enola leaned closer to Mickey, “So?”

“So….” He replied, not catching her eye.

“You know he was talking to you. You will need those extra points to avoid a midterm.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t test me. I’m your partner, I know how terrible you are.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I want to help with homecoming.”

She shrugged and then started rambling about how long it took to get to the farm or something. After a few minutes of one sided conversation she paused and looked him over. She squinted at him, carefully studying. Taking her eyes off of him she turned her attention to windows. There was a PE class just heading out to the fields to start their lacrosse game for the period. Absently she lifted her hand to play with her hair. As she did so, here sleeve caught on the desk and exposed her wrist. She didn’t seem to notice but others did. From under her sleeve poked part of her ribbon tattoo.

Hoping for nonchalance Mickey broke her reverie, “Would you do it?”

“Do what?” She asked as she slowly brought her attention to him. Without comment she shifted the sleeve down and up to the pad of her hand.

“Help with homecoming.”

“God no.”

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Do you think anyone really wants me there? I’m not sure what Carter has been telling them, but people are more leery of me then they have been.”

“What? Since when.”

“Oh, a couple of weeks.”

“So roughly as long as I’ve been here?”

“Woah there coach, not everything is about you.”

“But roughly.”

“Yes, fine, roughly. If I think about it the timing does line up somewhat close.”

“So what has he been saying?”

“Oh I don’t know, people have just been giving me funny looks, that’s all. Not a big deal, promise.”

“But it’ll keep you from participating in the activities.”

“Maybe? Look, I’m not a little joiner. Maybe I’ll help light the bamboo torches the night of the bonfire, but that’s more because I like a good campfire. I’m not planning on doing much of the other activities.”

“Not even the dance?”

“No, I don’t plan to go under the sea with you all.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Oh no, I’m not. It get’s better. I heard Candi discussing the photo scene. She is having Sam recreate King Trident’s castle from The Little Mermaid for the backdrop. He is not pleased about how is artistic talents are to be used. However, if he wants her to keep quite about just who did make the amazing graffiti art on the storage sheds he needs to play along. She should be careful. You never want to anger an artist. They will find sneaky and creative ways to ruin your life.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“I-” she began before being cut off.

“Is there a question here Enola?” Senor Berg asked.

“No sir,” she whispered.

“Are you sure? I’m hearing a lot of English and not very much Spanish coming from the general area.”

“Sorry sir,” Mickey cut in, “that’s my fault.”

“I have no doubt. Why this time Senor Travers?”

“We were discussing signing up for the extra credit.”

“Oh, great. I’ll write you both down. See you tomorrow at 8. Now, back to the lesson, por favor.”

Enola shot Mickey a death glare before spitting out the vocab, Mickey just smiled in response.